


every little thing

by knightspur



Series: Kinktober 2017 [7]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Face-Sitting, Impact Play, M/M, Minor pain play, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/knightspur
Summary: “What was I talking about?”Mingyu opens his mouth, pausing for a moment when he realizes that he has no answer. “Um, music?”Jihoon narrows his eyes, turning around to glare at Mingyu with all the force his small body has— which is plenty, as far as Mingyu is concerned.





	every little thing

“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” Jihoon says, in a tone that says he absolutely knows Mingyu isn’t.

“Of course I’m listening, hyung,” Mingyu says, blinking his eyes rapidly. His lack of attention shouldn’t be held against him; the air conditioning in the building has been out for the last four days and in a final ditch effort to avoid the heat Jihoon is wearing a pair of shorts that are deadly tight around the pale skin of his thighs and Mingyu has spent the last fifteen minutes staring at them.

Which he can't be blamed for, obviously. But Jihoon frowns at him and Mingyu knows that he’s going to get into trouble for it anyway. “What was I talking about?”

Mingyu opens his mouth, pausing for a moment when he realizes that he has no answer. “Um, music?”

Jihoon narrows his eyes, turning around to glare at Mingyu with all the force his small body has— which is plenty, as far as Mingyu is concerned.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” Jihoon asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Mingyu is quick to shake his head, doing his best not to let his attention drop to Jihoon’s legs once more.

“No,” Mingyu says, his voice starting to sound a little strained. Jihoon huffs, standing up now, and Mingyu’s eyes drag along the exposed lines of his thighs for a quick beat before he looks up again.

Jihoon stops a foot away, reaching out and grabbing hold of Mingyu’s shirt collar, pulling him forward. “Something on your mind, mutt?”

Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat and for a moment there’s a fizzling heat that starts in the pit of his stomach and rises up to chase all the thoughts out of his head. Jihoon’s mouth twists into a frown when Mingyu doesn’t answer him and Mingyu has to swallow hard, trying to think of something to say.

“It’s just um,” Mingyu starts, tilting his head back a little like he’s already expecting Jihoon’s fingers on his neck. “The shorts are a little…”

He trails off, reaching a daring hand forward to slide his fingers over the exposed back of Jihoon’s thigh, feeling the soft give of his skin. Jihoon’s eyebrow lifts further, twisting his fingers tighter in Mingyu’s shirt with a little hum. “A little what?”

“Just little,” Mingyu says, a little grin on his face when Jihoon rolls his eyes. He’s not going to admit it to Jihoon directly, but it’s entertaining to piss him off sometimes. His fingers are still wandering over one of Jihoon’s thighs, squeezing and pulling them slightly apart. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes, swatting Mingyu’s hand away from his thigh. It doesn’t have much force behind it, but Mingyu lets his hand drop back to the couch next to him. He stares up at Jihoon instead, tipping his head back further when Jihoon’s hand slides up the side of his neck, the pad of his thumb tracing over Mingyu’s Adam’s apple. He hums like he’s forgotten to be fully annoyed and is instead considering what he wants to do with him.

“You’re being a pain,” he says, pressing his thumb against Mingyu’s collarbone with a shake of his head. “And it’s too hot.”

Mingyu whines, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist to keep him there. He manages to push Jihoon’s shirt up, pressing little kisses against the bottom of his stomach. “It is not.”

Jihoon’s hands slide back through Mingyu’s hair, shuffling another step closer to allow Mingyu to continue. His nails scratch a little at the back of his head and Mingyu continues his mission of mouthing at Jihoon’s hipbone, one arm still around his waist and the other pushing his shirt up to keep it out of the way. He’s too focused on dragging his teeth over the pale skin of Jihoon’s stomach and so he’s not expecting the sharp tug of Jihoon’s fingers in his hair. He yelps, the sound tapering off into a groan at the sting. Jihoon pulls his head back and the annoyance is there on his face once more.

“You’re causing trouble on purpose,” he says, though the scowl on his face is undercut by the bulge that his shorts do absolutely nothing to hide. Mingyu can’t help the grin on his face, even if it’s only going to get him further into trouble. Jihoon sighs, releasing Mingyu’s head to comb his bangs out of his face with a sharp shake of his head. “Lay down.”

Mingyu releases Jihoon’s waist, swinging his legs to stretch over the couch, too eager to comply. Jihoon smirks at him, shaking his head.

“On the floor, mutt. Clothes off,” he says, turning after the order is out of his mouth. Mingyu blinks but pushes himself up, tossing his clothes into an uncoordinated pile on the couch. Usually, he’d take the time to fold them so they aren’t so wrinkled after but he has the sense that Jihoon isn’t going to be that patient.

The floor of Jihoon’s little studio is cold, and it’s hard to find enough space for his long legs, so he ends up at a slight angle. He leans up on one elbow, watching Jihoon root through a basket piled with wires and old album cases until he finds the thick leather collar that he keeps hidden underneath the mess. Mingyu swallows, his fingers curling into a fist, anticipation sparking in his stomach.

Jihoon lets the collar dangle from one finger, holding it by the polished silver buckle but doesn’t turn back to Mingyu. He goes to the bookcase standing against one wall instead, reaching a slim arm behind it and glancing at Mingyu with a smirk.

Mingyu isn’t expecting him to pull out a riding crop as long as Jihoon’s arm, the black leather tip folded and stitched in the shape of a heart and the surprise must show on his face. Jihoon’s smirk gets wider, tilting his head as he looks down at Mingyu.

“Did you think you were going to get away with being a little bitch?” He asks, lifting one of his eyebrows. It’s one of those questions that Mingyu isn’t sure if he’s supposed to answer or not but he shakes his head just slightly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

He’s far more excited than he is nervous, and with his clothes already discarded, there’s no hiding the interested twitch of his cock as his eyes drag over the crop. Jihoon steps over Mingyu, setting the crop on the couch and gesturing for Mingyu to sit up. He does, tilting his head to make it easy for Jihoon to buckle the collar around his throat. He slides two fingers between the leather and Mingyu’s skin like he always does, testing that it isn’t tight enough to hamper his breathing. Mingyu tips his chin up a little further, stretching up to steal a kiss while Jihoon is focused.

It probably only serves to get him into more trouble but Jihoon doesn’t pull away or shove him back to the floor. His mouth opens against Mingyu’s, biting down on his lip until it stings, his fingers tightening around the collar. Mingyu can’t help but whine a little when Jihoon pulls back, trying to lean forward and steal another. Jihoon leans back too quickly for him to succeed, shaking his head with a little huff.

“Down mutt,” he says and Mingyu bites his lip, laying reluctantly on the floor once again. Jihoon stands over him for a moment, his head tilted to the side, lips parted to let his tongue poke at the corner of his mouth— thinking, weighing his options. He grips the hem of his shirt in both hands, pulling it over his head with a little wiggle of his hips. Mingyu isn’t sure if it’s just meant to tease him or not but it works, either way, his eyes glued to Jihoon’s skin, fighting the urge to tackle him to the couch and use his size to his advantage.

He doesn’t, and before he can change his mind and do something else stupid, Jihoon grabs the crop from the couch. He strokes the leather tip of it up Mingyu’s side, over his stomach, toward the middle of his chest. Mingyu squirms a little under the light touch, unable to help himself. It’s a different feeling than the other times the two of them have toyed around with impact play; with Mingyu draped over Jihoon’s thighs, his face pressed into the starchy sheets of a hotel bed, letting Jihoon slap his ass red and bruised in spite of the fact that they had a ten hour flight the next day. But he couldn’t see Jihoon’s face then like he can now, or watch the crop drag over his skin with vicious intent.

It’s a different kind of anticipation, and before Jihoon even flicks his wrist to smack Mingyu’s chest with the tip of it, just to the side of one of his hard nipples, Mingyu is biting down the soft whimpers that want to spill out of his mouth. The sting of the crop is a surprise, biting quick and sharp into his skin and Mingyu gasps, suddenly wishing he wasn’t spread out on the floor with nothing to hold onto.

Jihoon drags the crop over one of his nipples, pressing down on it and watching Mingyu’s back arch. He swallows down a mixture of disappointment and relief when Jihoon drags it to the side again. The crop strikes against his sternum, hard enough this time to leave a little red heart behind on his skin and Mingyu whines again, squeezing his eyes shut. It doesn’t help. Jihoon brings it down one, two, three times, inching closer to his other nipple with each strike.

Mingyu opens his eyes, his breath coming in hard little gasps, looking up at Jihoon with his lips parted. From the angle he’s at he can see not only the bulge of Jihoon’s cock pressing against the fabric of his shorts but the little dark patch marking the tip of it. He whines, reaching out to slide a daring hand up the back of Jihoon’s calf.

“Hyung…” he says, squeezing Jihoon’s leg in his hand. He drops it when the tip of the crop strikes the inside of his arm, just on the edge of where his sleeves will cover. Mingyu bites down on his lip, groaning into it, still looking up at Jihoon with pleading eyes. Jihoon’s mouth curves up into a smile, dragging the crop down the center of his chest once again.

“Are you that desperate already mutt? That why you can’t behave yourself?” He asks, a mocking edge to his voice. Mingyu hesitates before nodding his head because there’s no way of hiding it at this point. Jihoon taps the crop against his nipple, making Mingyu jerk slightly when the impact of it is much softer than expected.

“Fine,” he says, adjusting his grip on the handle before stepping so he’s standing over Mingyu’s head, facing the other direction. Mingyu is about to risk asking what he’s doing when Jihoon kneels, careful not to bang his knees against the floor. He positions himself with his ass hovering over Mingyu’s face, thighs on either side of his neck. Mingyu bites down hard on his lip, trying to wait until he’s actually told to do something.

Jihoon seems content to draw the torment of it out, dragging the crop up and down the inside of his thigh, making his legs spread apart like an offering. Mingyu is back to not being able to see the crop or read the expression on Jihoon’s face, but the amusement in his voice is clear. “Is this what you wanted?”

Jihoon doesn’t look back to see Mingyu nod. He sets the crop to the side instead, arching his hips and pulling his shorts down so the tight waist of them is resting just below the soft flesh of his ass. Mingyu’s hips give a thoughtless little jerk which only earns him another sharp stroke of the crop against the inside of his thigh. Jihoon smooths his fingers over the spot, pressing the stinging welt left behind before twisting his torso to look back at Mingyu.

“Go on then,” he says and Mingyu almost knocks Jihoon off of him when he lunges up, gripping Jihoon’s ass in both hands and giving it a squeeze. He wastes no time, dragging his tongue over the tightly bunched muscle of Jihoon’s rim. He keeps his hands squeezing Jihoon’s ass, teasing the tip of his tongue around Jihoon’s hole.

It’s satisfying to hear him whine in response, Jihoon’s nails dragging up the muscle of Mingyu’s thigh with enough force to leave thin welts behind. Mingyu turns his head to the side, just enough to allow him to nip the swell of his ass. Jihoon bites down on a small sound, though he doesn’t muffle it so much that Mingyu misses it. He strikes the crop against Mingyu’s pelvis in return, just to the side of his cock.

Mingyu’s hips jerk in return, whining though the sound is muffled. He does his best to focus, pressing his tongue slowly past Jihoon’s rim when the muscle relaxes, curling it.

Jihoon groans once again, the hand not occupied with the crop reaching down to grip around the collar. He pulls up sharply on it, forcing his hips back in an effort to force Mingyu’s tongue in deeper. Mingyu’s fingers dig harder into his skin, his jaw open until it aches, thrusting his tongue in slow strokes. Jihoon’s hips roll back into the slick intrusion, his grasp on the collar keeping Mingyu from pulling away.

It’s likely going to leave an angry red line around his neck, the kind that Mingyu so hard has found extremely hard to explain when anyone else notices it. But at the moment it just makes him shut his eyes tighter, sighing at the welcome pressure. His focus is much more concentrated on getting Jihoon off than coming up with excuses.

He detaches one hand from Jihoon’s ass, reaching around his hips to wrap around his cock. He can feel the arch of Jihoon’s back, the way his weight shifts when he jerks into it.

“Fuck,” Jihoon gasps, his legs squeezing just a little tighter next to Mingyu’s shoulders when Mingyu sucks at his rim before lapping over it again. His tongue is moving in quick, sloppy strokes, drool running in a thin strand down his cheek. He doesn’t pay any attention, twisting his wrist as he strokes over Jihoon’s cock.

“Good boy,” Jihoon says, arching his hips up into Mingyu’s hand. The tip of the crop strikes against his thigh but it’s lighter this time, less focus and force behind it. Mingyu can feel his cock twitch at the praise, his breath coming out against Jihoon’s skin in heavy huffs.

Part of him wants to give up and beg for Jihoon to touch his cock, left neglected and weeping a slick pool of precome against his stomach, but he’s not sure he’d get anything more than Jihoon scolding him once again for being greedy.

(Besides it’s not often that he gets to touch Jihoon this much without him going shy.)

Mingyu lowers his head just slightly, the pressure of the collar tight against his throat, sucking two fingers from his other hand into his mouth and coating them in a messy layer of spit. He presses one finger into the relaxed muscles of Jihoon’s hole, curling it to rub the pad into his prostate. Jihoon groans, releasing the collar to press his hand into Mingyu’s chest, doing his best to keep his balance steady.

He runs his thumb over the slick tip of Jihoon’s cock, pressing the slit a little. Jihoon’s hips jerk forward once, twice, before he comes with a low whine, spilling onto Mingyu’s chest. Mingyu keeps his finger rubbing into Jihoon’s prostate until he gasps from the overstimulation of it, pushing on Mingyu’s wrist.

Mingyu slides his finger out, biting his lip as he lays back on the cold floor. Jihoon twists, looking down at Mingyu with a flush still on his face. 

“Good puppy,” he says, and there’s a genuine note of fondness in his voice that Mingyu doesn’t expect to hear. It makes his face flush a little, something he hopes isn’t too obvious.

It’s not as if he thinks Jihoon hates him, of course, no matter what the sex is like. But usually, he’s reluctant to show anything other than his prickly exterior.

Mingyu doesn’t get time to dwell on it, since Jihoon bends over, pulling his hand off of Mingyu’s chest to wrap around his cock instead. He simply holds it in place, sliding his lips around the slick head of it instead. Mingyu’s hips jerk up helplessly, almost shoving himself in too far before Jihoon stops him. His nails dig red crescents into Mingyu’s thigh, hollowing his cheeks and sucking quick and hard.

The pressure in Mingyu’s stomach builds too quick and he tilts his head back against the floor a loud groan, squeezing his eyes shut. Jihoon’s thumb finds one of the red marks left from the crop, pressing hard into it. The dull pain reminds Mingyu of the few times Jihoon has been able to get away with leaving a proper hickey on his neck and he groans again, his knees bending as his hips jerk again.

Jihoon drags his tongue over the head of Mingyu’s cock, ignoring the tight grip of Mingyu’s fingers on his thighs. “H- hyung.”

Jihoon’s fingers stroke over him rapidly, his head nodding. He’s sitting up half-way, his head tilted to look back at Mingyu with what could almost be called a smile on his face if Mingyu had the presence of mind to appreciate it.

“C’mon,” he says, a purr in his voice. “I wanna see you come like a pretty bitch.”

The words alone are more than enough to send Mingyu careening over the edge, but Jihoon’s wrist twists expertly around his cock, the nail of his thumb scraping the sensitive tip. Mingyu slams his head against the ground when his shoulders jerk, shouting as he comes over Jihoon’s fist. Jihoon keeps stroking him through it until his cock twitches weakly in Jihoon’s fist and he whimpers, his hips jerking in a vain effort to pull away.

Jihoon hums, swinging his leg so he’s no longer kneeling over Mingyu, stretching his legs out with a little groan. He looks down at his messy hand with a slight scowl, glancing over as Mingyu sits up.

Mingyu is already leaning forward before Jihoon holds his hand out, fingers wrapping around Jihoon’s slender wrist. He doesn’t hesitate in licking Jihoon’s fingers clean, sucking two of them into his mouth, tongue sliding between them.

Jihoon huffs a little sound, almost a laugh when Mingyu releases his hand, pressing a kiss to the tips of his fingers, looking up at him with both eyebrows raised.

“You good?” He asks, teeth digging the corner of his lips. Mingyu nods, lunging forward to scoop Jihoon up in both arms before he has a chance to get away. He deposits the both of them on the couch, ignoring the fact that there are definite claw marks on his thighs and come drying on his stomach, curling his body around Jihoon’s so the both of them fit.

Despite the scowl on his face, Jihoon doesn’t try to wiggle away, stroking one finger around the bottom of the collar still wrapped around Mingyu’s neck.

Mingyu shuts his eyes, nuzzling against Jihoon’s cheek, content to enjoy the few minutes of cuddle time he gets. It’s a little surprising when Jihoon laughs, petting his fingers through Mingyu’s hair. “Good boy.”

Mingyu grins a little, ducking his head to hide his burning face in the crook of Jihoon’s neck, holding onto him just a little tighter.


End file.
